The old man was bending over his child. Her flushed face was turned upward to the sun, her eyes wandered to and fro, dazzled and bright with pain. She had ceased to mutter now, and lay motionless. Barbara would have helped the old man, but he put her aside, and in a stern voice bade her depart. The unhappy woman looked wildly abroad, upon the ocean--the land--it all seemed a dreary wilderness to her. Why should she remain where men hated her so? Why did she wish to escape the awful danger threatened by that old man's words? Fleeing, as much from the minister's evident abhorrence as from fear of the consequences, the woman turned and walked slowly toward the woods. When Samuel Parris arose, lifting his child from the earth, Barbara Stafford had disappeared. Unheard and unseen she had vanished from his presence; and this was remembered as another proof against her. While the scene had been in progress, a boat grated on the sands of the beach, and two persons stepped out, going different ways: the young man bent his course toward the forest; the maiden came softly up to the place where Samuel Parris stood staggering under the weight of his child. "What is this, uncle? Has Elizabeth hurt herself that she cannot keep her feet?" said Abigail Williams, in the cold, still way that had marked her of late. "She is possessed--God have mercy upon us! the child is possessed!" Abigail looked on her cousin's face, and a spasm of pain crept over her own features. "She is indeed very ill--something terrible is upon her. Let us go to the house: the hot sun makes her worse." The old man gathered Elizabeth closer to his bosom and turned to obey this suggestion. In moving, his foot struck the little basket which Barbara had carried, scattering some of the roots and flowers on the ground. "Bring that, also!" he said, glancing earthward; "bring that also!" Abigail took up the basket, replaced the scattered roots, and followed the minister home. CHAPTER XXXVIII. SHELTERED IN THE WOODS. Barbara Stafford found herself in the deep shadows of the wilderness, walking slowly and steadily on till their gloom lay around her--heavy and dark, like the terror that settled on her soul.